Thin Thing

Down a rabbit hole

We go

As the flames grow higher

For unbelievers

Making mushrooms out of men

Till she turns us back again

To a face of solid gold

Solid gold

Sycophantic fawners

In double quick time

The beginning at the end

Till she turns us back again

First she'll pull your fingers off

And then she'll pull your toes

And then she'll steal the photos from your phone

But you won't notice

Our echo doesn't hear us

Anymore

Hanging on a cloth edge

By its fingers

Making mushrooms out of men

That's okay I guess

If you like this kind of, kind of thing

This kind of thin, thin, thin, thin thing

These kind of mushrooms

These kind of ripples

These kind of ripples

This kind of thin, thin, thin, thin, thin thing

Like this kind of thing

Like this kind of thin, thin thing

Like this kind of thing

Like this kind of thing

Like these kind of ripples